Family time capsule
I grew up looooong before digital technology took over, before automobile GPS navigation systems, smartphones, personal computers, online information and shopping, et. al. Before the CN Tower stood. Before the Toronto skyline exploded. Before Guelph expanded.
When I was growing up, we went on family vacations in the station wagon, and later in an RV bus. We went everywhere in that bus, all across Canada and the U.S. Traveling in the bus like the Partridge Family, or something, was a family tradition. Dad was the pilot, and Mom was the navigator, sitting in the passenger seat with paper road maps, directing Dad. Mom vetted all the sightseeing spots by collecting and reading hundreds of brochures and pamphlets, and planning our route and itinerary. I remember this: whenever we crossed a provincial or a state boundary, Dad pulled into the first Rest Stop or Visitors’ Center and Mom religiously, almost indiscriminately collected all the available maps and pamphlets.
When Mom passed away last year, we discovered boxes holding hundreds of old, out-of-date road maps and sightseeing brochures. She never threw anything away. The Thousand Islands, the Reverse Falls, the Cabot Trail, the Capilano Suspension Bridge, the Big Nickel Mine. Pioneer villages. Ruby Falls. Stone Mountain. Okefenokee Swamp. KOA campgrounds. It was like opening a time capsule from a lost world.
It was all garbage, of course.
Or not.